


The Breakfast Club: Star Trek Deep Space Nine AU

by sunshine (sunshinepiveh)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Breakfast Club References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinepiveh/pseuds/sunshine
Summary: This is basically the entirety of the movie The Breakfast Club with the characters changed to be characters from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and the setting changed to the space station. These are two things that I love, finally brought together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The way in which I wrote this story was to begin by copying the script of the original Breakfast Club movie, and going from there. Therefore, some lines are copied verbatim, while others have been changed significantly to make sense for the AU.

_Stardate 46379.1. Terok Nor detention centre. Dear Gul Dukat... we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole day at the detention centre for whatever it was that we did wrong, what we did was wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us... in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a human, a Klingon, a Trill, a Bajoran, and a Changeling. Correct? That’s the way we saw each other at seven o’clock this morning. We were brainwashed...._

 

~~~

 

Kira makes her way toward the storage room in a remote part of the station where the detention centre is located, with Vedek Bareil in tow. “I can’t believe you can’t get me out of this...” she whines. “I mean, it’s so absurd I have to be here! It’s not like I’m a defective or anything...”

 

Bareil rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’ll make it up to you. Listen, missing work for a legitimate religious observance doesn’t make you a defective. It was ridiculous for Dukat not to grant your request for leave in the first place.” he placates. But they’ve arrived. “Have a good day.” he calls as Kira rolls her eyes and continues into the room.

 

In another hall, Bashir is walking alongside of Captain Sisko, his son Jake in tow.

 

“Is this the first time or the last time we do this?” Sisko asks, full of righteous indignation.

 

“Last...” Bashir mumbles, wincing painfully at Sisko’s tone.

 

“Well get in there and use the time to your advantage.” Sisko warns.

 

Bashir hazards a response. “Sir... we’re not supposed to actually do any work or reports; we just have to sit there and do nothing.”

 

“Well, Mister, you figure out a way to be productive.” Sisko warns him.

 

“Yeah!” Jake chimes in from the behind as Julian shoots him a vicious glare.

 

“Well, go!” Sisko shoos him away, as Bashir moves into the next hall and toward the detention centre ahead.

 

As Command Worf makes his way to the centre, General Martok glowers as he walks beside him stoically.

 

Martok speaks gruffly. “Worf. I, too, engaged in frivolous fighting games when I was young. It is what young Klingons do. The difficulty is that you were caught, and such behaviour at this station and especially among non-Klingons is not tolerated.”

 

“I am aware.” Worf grinds out, feeling deeply uncomfortable.

 

“Do you want to lose all rank and honour?” Martok presses him as Worf tries not to squirm. “Neither the Federation nor the Cardassians aboard this station will want to work with a discipline case.”

 

Worf simply grits his teeth and moves on.

 

Odo stalks toward the detention centre, cool and aloof. A flustered Jadzia Dax barrels past him, though he barely breaks stride. She has a cup of _raktajino_ in one hand, her hair is a mess, and she’s still trying to button her Ferengi jacket with one hand.

 

In the room which has been designated the detention centre, there are six tables in two rows of three. Kira is already sitting at the front table, and Bashir comes in next, sitting at the table behind her. Worf comes next. He glances at the chair next to Kira and seeks permission to sit with his eyes, which Kira grants with a small nod, eyeing him speculatively.

 

Odo strides in next, his sharp eyes checking every corner and grunting knowingly at whatever it is he thinks he finds. He walks up to his customary seat beside Bashir and narrows his eyes. With slow determination, he sits in his usual spot. He isn’t going to be moved from his routine due to someone else’s carelessness. Uncomfortable, Julian moves his own seat over to the next table. Odo leans back with satisfaction.

 

Jadzia walks in next, and goes around the long way to the back corner where she sits alone. Worf and Kira share a slightly amused look at the somewhat off-kilter behaviour, but Julian, catching the exchange, looks around in confusion, unable to see anything at all worthy of amusement.

 

Finally, Gul Dukat enters, with a malicious sort of smile in place as he stares at them.

 

“Well, well. Here we are! I want to congratulate you for being on time.” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

Kira belligerently raises her hand. “Excuse me, Sir? I think there’s been a mistake.” she says with a toss of her head. “I know I’ve been assigned to this detention, but I don’t think I really belong here....” she says with a sort of affronted laugh.

 

Dukat ignores her entirely. “It is now seven-oh-six. You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you’re here. To ponder the error of your ways....”

 

Odo gives a sarcastic harrumph and shakes his head, to which Kira responds with a sharp look of annoyance.

 

Dukat continues. “... and you may not talk. You will not move from these seats.” Dukat looks directly at Odo and narrows his eyes. “... and you, Changeling, will stay in your solid state. All right people, we’re going to try something a little different today. We’re going to write an essay -- of no less than a thousand words -- describing to me who you think you are.”

 

Odo asks dryly, “Is this some sort of test?”

 

Dukat ignores the question entirely, handing out PADDs. “And when I say essay... I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mister Odo?” he finally turns his attention the Changeling.

 

Odo rolls his eyes. “Crystal.”

 

“Good. Maybe you’ll learn a little something about yourself. Maybe you’ll even decide whether or not you care to return.”

 

Bashir raises his hand, and then awkwardly stands. “You know, I can answer that right now, Sir. That’d be a ‘no’, no for me. Because...”

 

“Sit down, Bashir.” Dukat says with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

 

“Thank you, Sir.” Julian mumbles, sitting down.

 

“My office,” Dukat says with a gesture in its direction, “is right across that hall. Any funny business is ill-advised. Any questions?”

 

“I have a question.” Odo states, folding his arms across his chest. “Do they require all Cardassians to wear that soul-sucking grey or is it a personal decision?”

 

“I’ll give you the answer to that question, Mister Odo, next Saturday. Don’t mess with a snake, young man, you’ll get bit.” Dukat warns, then turns and leaves.

 

“That man...” Odo mutters, shaking his head in obvious affront.

 

They began to settle in for painfully long day of nothing, when in the background, a certain _click, click, click_ is heard. Bashir turns around to spot Jadzia Dax, thumb-nail in her mouth as she bites her nails compulsively. Odo turns next, and raises his eyes at the scene as well. Only when the entire room’s gaze is focused on her does Dax notice the unwanted attention and glare up at them.

 

“You keep eating your hand and you’re not going to be hungry for lunch.” Odo quips, folding his arms across his chest.

 

Dax simply spit s her nail at him in affront.

 

“I’ve seen you before, you know....” Odo continues, staring at her speculatively.

 

Across the hall, Dukat peer s out of his office, trying to see what’ s going on.

 

Meanwhile, Bashir ha s decided to ignore Dax in favour of playing with his  stylus , already refocused on his work. “Who do I think I am?” he mutter s to himself. “Who are you? Who are you?”  He latche s the  stylus to his lips muttering “I am a walrus....” while he work s .

 

Odo look s at Bashir in complete confusion, and after a moment Bashir notices the attention and takes the  stylus out of his mouth, embarrassed. 

 

Simultaneously, Worf and Bashir start to remove their jackets, and noticing his mimicry, Worf shoots a glare over his shoulder. Bashir freezes and shrugs his jacket on, blowing into his hands as if they’re cold, and all the while Odo watches the exchange, making Bashir all the more uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He tries to break the tension.

 

“It’s complete shite, isn’t it?” he asks Odo with a small smile, but withers a bit when Odo doesn’t smile in return or reply. He’s getting the distinct impression Odo might be annoyed by him.

 

 

Odo turns away and pushes away his PADD, having no intention of actually completing the asinine assignment. He tosses the PADD onto a nearby table just past Kira as she flinches.

 

Kira and Worf share an annoyed look at Odo’s antics but continue to ignore him. Odo then starts humming to himself, throwing the whole room into annoyed distraction.

 

Kira wipes her face with both hands, taking a deep breath and muttering, “I can’t believe this is really happening to me....”

 

Odo stops his humming abruptly. “You know these rule sets Dukat lays out are entirely impractical.” he grouses. “What if one of the you should need to use the facilities?”

 

“You’re a Changeling.” Kira snaps. “You don’t even go to the bathroom.”

 

“Then what if I should have to revert?” Odo asks in return. “We’re not allowed to leave our seats. I haven’t been provided with a bucket. Though I suppose I won’t be in my seat for long if I revert....”

 

Kira casts a glance over her shoulder at him and swears she sees his form waver. “Don’t you dare.” she says in disgust. “I don’t want some liquid life form all over the floor where I’m sitting.”

 

By now everyone is watching the heated exchange.

 

“If you change in my presence,” Worf threatens, “you will come to regret it.” He shifts in obvious discomfort of the Changeling.

 

Odo grunts in amused satisfaction. “I suppose you couldn’t contain your brutish nature. You Klingons are all raging hormones.” He turns his gaze to an increasingly uncomfortable Bashir. “You.” he says to get his attention.

 

Bashir glances around, and then indicates himself reluctantly with the stylus, frowning when Odo nods.

 

“You seem scientifically minded. You shut the door and I’ll revert, and we’ll see which of them,” he nods toward Kira and Worf, “loses their composure first.”

 

Kira glares and Worf lets out a growl, teeth clenched in irritation. “Do not test me, Changeling.” he warns darkly.

 

“Oh, really?” Odo asks dryly. “You really think that a Klingon could hold up against a Changeling?”

 

“I am willing to find out.” Worf assures him.

 

Kira turns to Odo. “Look why don’t you just shut up? Nobody here is interested in a fight.”

 

“But if there were a fight, I would prevail.” Worf insists to both Kira and Odo, or perhaps to himself.

 

“And what did you do to get yourself in here, Klingon?” Odo asks. “Pound some hapless bystander into the floor?”

 

Bashir speaks up nervously. “Excuse me, guys? I think we should just write our essays....”

 

 

“Just because you are a permanent fixture of these detentions,” Worf growls to Odo, “does not give you the right to irritate everyone around you.”

 

Odo simply grunts in amusement or acknowledgement, and shakes his head a bit to himself, arms still folded over his chest as he leans back in his chair.

 

Kira turns to Worf. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.” she tries to reason with him. “Just ignore him...”

 

Odo gives a single mocking laugh. “You couldn’t ignore me if you tried.”

 

Kira rolls her eyes and turns around to face the front of the room again.

 

“So...” Odo begins speculatively, eyeing up Kira and Worf. “Are you two in some sort of romantic entanglement?” Kira shifts uncomfortably at the accusation and Worf stiffens. “A Klingon and a Bajoran....” Odo muses. “Isn’t that a little... shall we say, dangerous?” he asks, watching Kira blush.

 

Worf lets out a warning growl as Kira whips around and screams “Go to hell!” at the same time Worf lets out an abrupt “Enough!”

 

Across the hall, Dukat shouts from his office. “What is going on in there?” he demands, then goes silent when the shouting ceases.

 

Everyone looks around at each other, waiting for the tension from Dukat’s office to fade away. Finally, Worf turns his threatening gaze away from Odo, muttering “ _P’tahk.”_

 

In a flash of wings, Odo is a large bird which flies up to the railing  of the room’s second level,  and reverts back to his humanoid form. “I say we close that door.” he says speculatively, staring at it from the railing. “I doubt Dukat would even notice, and it would keep him from intruding every time we tried to have a conversation.”

 

Bashir squirm s in discomfort. “Well you know, the door’s supposed to stay open.” he  says reasonably.

 

“So what?” Odo asks dismissively.

 

Worf lets out a frustrated growl. “You will cease to distract the rest of us immediately.” he demands. “There are four other people in  this room , none of which are interested in causing ourselves further discipline.”

 

Odo grunts. “Huh. A Klingon who can count. I didn’t know it was required of a race of warriors.”

 

“You are without honour.” Worf replies, dismissing his insults entirely.

 

“Hah! Really...” Kira agrees, shaking her head.

 

“If you ceased inflicting your honourless goads on the rest of us, the station would only be improved by your absence.” Worf asserts.

 

Odo tightens his mouth and shoulders in a way that indicates to those who know him that he’s a bit upset at that barb, but he does his best to hide it. “Well. I’ll just run out and join a  _bat’leth_ tournament.” he says levelly.

 

 

Worf raises an unimpressed brow and Kira coughs out a surprised laugh at the mental image of Odo with a _bat’leth_.

 

“Hmm. Perhaps I’ll show up for the Bajoran services, too.” he speculates, watching Kira. “Daily meditations, yearly festivals to attend to....”

 

Kira looks affronted and Worf speaks for her. “I doubt very much they would even take you.”

 

“I’m hurt.” Odo says with flat sarcasm.

 

“You know why guys like you knock everything?” Kira asks.

 

“Oh this should be stunning.” Odo mutters to himself.

 

“It’s because you’re afraid.” Kira asserts.

 

“You solids are so smart.” Odo concedes. “That is exactly why I don’t fill my time with pointless distractions.”

 

“You’re a coward!” Kira insists.

 

Bashir, to no one in particular, mumbles “I’m in  a book club ....”

 

Kira is sitting up straighter now, gesticulating with sharp jabs of her hand as she speaks. “See, you’re afraid they won’t take you. You don’t belong, so you just have to dump all over everyone else....”

 

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the majority of solids being complete xenophobic bigots.” Odo mutters dryly.

 

“Well you wouldn’t know. You don’t even know any of us.”

 

“Well I don’t know any lepers either, but I’m not going to seek them out to find out what they’re like in person.”

 

“You will cease your incessant chatter!” Worf demands again, his patience wearing thin.

 

“I play darts with Chief O’Brien once a week, too.” Bashir mumbles again.

 

To Kira, Odo murmurs a quiet, “Excuse me,” then turns his attention to ward Bashir. “What is it you’re babbling about?”

 

Bashir shifts uncomfortably, but straightens his spine. “Well, what I said was... I’m in  a book club,  I play darts with Chief O’Brien once a week , and  I have a regular holosuite program I do in my spare time as well .”

 

Odo nods and half-smirks as he turns back toward Kira. “And what about you, Bajoran?  Do you have any holoprograms you play with ?”

 

“That’s purely recreational.” Kira answers with an embarrassed blush.

 

“And?” Odo prompts.

 

“So... leisure activities aren’t nearly the same as attending religious services.”

 

“Ahh...” Odo nods. “But to people like him,” he jerks his chin toward Bashir, “they are.” Odo turns toward Bashir again. “What do you do in this holoprogram?” he prompts.

 

Bashir squirms under everyone’s attention. “Well,  it’s a sort of lounge program .  There’s a singer you get to know. Members of the band. Various patrons to interact with. ”

 

“So it’s sort of social.” Odo says. “Demented and sad, but social.”

 

“Well, I guess you could consider it to be a social situation.” Bashir concedes. “I mean there are holograms there to socialize with, and there’s music, food, drink....”

 

“A typical gathering of solids.” Odo speculates. “Poisoning your fragile bodies with copious amounts of alcohol....”

 

“Well, no,” Bashir explains. “It’s a rather classier establishment than all of that. I mean there is alcohol present but we don’t get drunk.”

 

Kira narrows her eyes  at Odo  in affront. “You can’t even consume alcohol. What would you know about getting drunk or not?”

 

Bashir continues babbling as he does when he’s nervous. “ Everyone has to dress up to go to Vic’s of course, so I have to replicate a whole new wardrobe before I go to it, so I suppose you could say I’ve made a significant investment in the program. Only last year, I lost the shoes that went with my outfit so I borrowed some of Chief O’Brien’s, which was a bit weird and they’re not even the right size, honestly. I did bring Chief O’Brien along once but it wasn’t really his sort of program. He was bored the entire time, so now we just stick to our drats. But s peaking of getting too drunk, you know, he actually is the sort of person  when he’s bored enough , or that is to say, the sort of  s olid you were talking about, that does drink too much sometimes. This one time he got tremendously drunk, or at least it seemed so to me, and he started eating all of these really weird foods,  which I sort of attribute to Keiko’s influence. That’s his wife . And then he just felt like he didn’t belong anywhere, you know....”

 

Kira nods viciously at Odo. “Sounds like you.”

 

“If you all do not cease your incessant chatter,” Worf warns, “Dukat is likely going to return to this room and he will not be pleased. I refuse to sacrifice a further Saturday on account of something that I did not willingly participate in.”

 

“And miss next weekend’s _bat’leth_ tournament.” Odo said knowingly.

 

“As if you would know anything about it.” Worf defended. “I doubt you’ve competed in anything in your life.”

 

“And I feel so empty inside because of it.” Odo said dryly. “I have such a deep admiration for Klingons who wrestle around on the floor with one another like common animals.”

 

“I doubt you even have goals.” Worf asserts.

 

“Oh, but perhaps I wish to be just like you.” Odo says cuttingly. “All I’d need is a a lobotomy and some tights.”

 

Bashir perks up. “You wear tights?”

 

“I do not wear tights!” Worf roars. “I wear the required uniform for the tournament.”

 

“Tights.” Bashir reiterates, and Worf levels a warning growl and snarl his direction.

 

The group can hear Dukat moving around in the hall, so in another flurry of wings Odo repositions himself from the rail to the seat between Kira and Worf. In his humanoid form again, he leans back casually in his seat as if he’d been there the whole time, arms folded across his chest. When Dukat goes back into his office and Odo deems the coast clear, he walks toward the double doors that separate the library from the hall to scope out the situation.

 

“You know you’re really not supposed to be doing that.” Bashir says a bit uncomfortably, really not wanting to cause any trouble.

 

“And you’re supposed to be writing a paper.” Odo quips back. No one’s really doing what they’re supposed to and it’s hypocritical to say otherwise.

 

Odo inspects the door and starts to fuss with one of the screws.

 

“What are you trying to do?” Kira demands to know.

 

“Perhaps he’ll leave.” Worf suggests optimistically.

 

While Worf is trying stoically to ignore whatever it is that Odo’s doing, Bashir can’t pry his eyes away. “You know, that’s official Cardassian property.” he points out helpfully. “It’s really not something to be toyed with.”

 

Odo successfully removes the screw and smiles in satisfaction as the door slams shut. Odo shifts to fly back to his seat.

 

“ _P’tahk!”_ Worf shouts at him. “Restore the doors to their previous position!”

 

“You really should fix that.” Bashir says worriedly.

 

“If it’s that easy to disable Dukat’s security measures, he deserves to have them dismantled.” Odo says levelly.

 

“You are going to cause us further trouble --” Worf grumbles.

 

“I’m fairly certain you’re the one calling undo attention to the situation.” Odo points out.

 

Just then, the door bursts open and Dukat is standing there looking furious. “Why is this door closed?” he demands coldly.

 

For a few seconds, no one says anything, just staring back at Dukat.

 

“Why... is that door... closed?” Dukat repeats himself slowly, his eyes narrowing.

 

“How are we supposed to know?” Odo asks sarcastically. “We’re not supposed to move, right?”

 

Dukat turns to level his gaze on Kira. “Why?” he asks.

 

Kira shrugs nonchalantly. “We were just sitting here like we were supposed to.” she says with wide-eyed innocence.

 

Dukat turns to look directly at Odo. “Who closed the door?”

 

“Perhaps a screw fell out.” Odo offers helpfully.

 

“It seemed to just close, Sir.” Worf grunts, not wanting to be implicated.

 

Dukat levels his gaze next on Jadzia in the back. “Who?” he barks out.

 

Jadzia, surprised Dukat is asking _her,_ lets out a little surprised squeak.

 

“She doesn’t talk, Sir.” Odo says before she has a chance to answer either way.

 

Dukat’s attention is successfully diverted back to Odo. “Give me that screw.” he demands

 

Odo crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m a Changeling, Dukat, or did you forget? Just where exactly do you think I’ve hidden a screw on my person?” he challenges.

 

“If I have to, I’ll yank you out of that seat and shake it out of you!” Dukat threatens furiously, ignoring the fact that his threat makes no sense. Odo just smirks at rattling the man.

 

“Screws fall out of doors all the time.” Odo says levelly. “The world is an imperfect place.”

 

“Give it to me, Changeling.” Dukat demands.

 

“Excuse me, Sir.” Kira interrupts cautiously. “Why would anybody want to steal a screw?”

 

Dukat shoots a vicious glare at Kira. “Watch it.” he warns.

 

Dukat moves to  one of  the door s , and tries to prop it open with one of the flimsy folding chairs available to him.

 

“The door is far too heavy for that to work.” Odo warns boredly, just before the door slams shut on the chair.

 

Cardassian curse words are heard through the closed door s and everyone snicker s before the door  is opened again, everyone trying desperately to wipe their faces clear of mirth.

 

Dukat opens the door again and stalks back inside. He points to Worf. “Worf. Get up here. Come on! Front and centre, let’s go.” he barks out, and Worf slowly rises to comply, looking wary.

 

“Why does Worf get to stand up?” Odo demands to know. “If he gets up, we’ll all get up. It’ll be anarchy!”

 

At Dukat’s direction, Worf and Dukat attempt to move a large metal filing cabinet in front of the door.

 

“It’s out of my hands.” Odo sighs, shaking his head.

 

Dukat wedges the cabinet in the door, keeping it open by blocking the entire passage.

 

“That’s very clever, Sir.” Odo says dryly. “But what if there’s a fire? I could get out, of course, by shifting, but I believe that endangering a room full of helpless solids would be unwise at this juncture of your career.”

 

Dukat grits his teeth and glares viciously at Odo, then turns to Worf. “What are you doing with this?” he demands, gesturing at the furniture. “Get this out of here. What’s the matter with you?” Worf quietly helps to inch the thing back out of the doorway.

 

Bashir speaks up hesitantly. “You know, the station has additional maintenance exits through the wall panels at either end of the room.” he says, pointing toward them.

 

Odo snaps. “Show Dukat some respect!” he demands, and Bashir looks startled, his mouth gaping at the accusation that he was being somehow disrespectful by offering up the information.

 

Dukat and Worf come back to the tables. “Let’s go.” Dukat barks. “Get back in your seat!” he points, and Worf sits.

 

“I expected more from a Klingon warrior.” Dukat says, before turning his attention back on Odo. “And you’re not fooling anybody, Changeling. The next screw that falls out is going to be you.” Dukat turns to leave.

 

Odo lets out an affronted grunt, a sarcastic huff of air.

 

“What was that?” Dukat asks dangerously, turning to face Odo again. He won’t suffer back-talk.

 

“I believe it was an expression of my incredulity of your completely asinine threats.” Odo answers levelly.

 

“You just bought yourself another Saturday.” Dukat says icily.

 

“Wonderful.” Odo grunts blandly.

 

“You just bought one more right there!”

 

“Well.” Odo says casually. “I’m free the Saturday after that, but beyond that I’ll need to check my calendar.”

 

“Good. Because it’s going to be filled. We’ll keep going. You want another one? Say the word. You just say the word. Instead of a security cell, you’ll come here. Are you through?”

 

“Unlikely.” Odo huffs an incredulous laugh as Dukat slowly unravels before him.

 

“I’m doing society a favour.” Dukat says viciously.

 

“Oh really?” Odo asks blandly.

 

“That’s another one, right now! I’ve got you for the rest of your Changeling life, however long that lasts, if you don’t watch your step. You want another one?”

 

“Certainly.” Odo says with an amused smile as he leans back in his seat.

 

“You got it! You got another one, right there. That’s another one, Odo.”

 

Kira distressedly whips around. “Cut it out!” she warns Odo. She mouths to him the word “stop”, not understanding what he could possibly be thinking getting himself into further and further trouble.

 

“Are you quite finished?” Dukat demands of Odo.

 

“Not even remotely.” Odo answers truthfully.

 

“Excellent.” Dukat says, eyes gleaming with malicious intent. “Then you’ve got one more, right there.”

 

“Do you really think this impacts me whatsoever?” Odo challenges.

 

“Another.” Dukat responds relentlessly.

 

Odo narrows his eyes and considers the Cardassian before him.

 

“Finished?” Dukat challenges again.

 

“How many is that?” Odo asks speculatively, wondering if Dukat has even been paying attention to his empty threats.

 

Bashir, who’d been paying rapt attention to the exchange offers his own count. “That’s seven including the one when we first came in and you asked about Gul Dukat’s wardrobe.”

 

Dukat glares at Bashir, not wanting to be made a fool of. “Now it’s eight. You stay out of it.”

 

“Excuse me, Sir, but it’s seven.” Bashir corrects.

 

“Shut it.” Dukat demands, then turns back to Odo. “You’re mine, Odo, for two months. I’ve got you.”

 

“I’m thrilled.” Odo rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh, I’m sure that’s exactly what you want these people to believe. You know what, Changeling? You ought to spend a little more time trying to do something with yourself and a little less time trying to impress people. You might be better off.” Dukat turns to the rest of the room. “All right, that’s it. I’m going to be right outside those doors. The next time I have to come in here, I’m cracking skulls.” he threatens, while Odo mouths the words as he says them, rolling his eyes.

 

Dukat leaves, as Odo’s tension breaks and in another flurry of wings he flies up to the rail, not immediately reverting away from a large bird of prey.

 

~~~

 

The clock reads a quarter to eight. Odo has changed back to his humanoid form and is keeping an eye on the goings on of the room. Kira is staring into space, blinking dry eyes. Bashir glances back at Dax and away, trying to furtively adjust an erection. Worf has produced a small knife from somewhere, with which he picks at his nails. Dax is twisting a string around her finger boredly, watching it turn purple.

 

Later, Odo has retrieved his PADD and hacked into the station’s data archives, which he’s browsing without much interest. Jadzia has moved onto idle drawing. Worf has degenerated to carving out bits of the table with his knife.

 

In another few minutes, everyone has fallen asleep.

 

~~~

 

Dukat stands and stares as everyone sleeps. “Wake up!” he barks out, startling them to wakefulness. “Who has to go to the lavatory?” Everyone save Odo raises their hands.

 

~~~

 

The clock reads 10:22. Worf is stretching, unaccustomed to sitting still for such long periods of time. Odo is picking up paper books and skimming through them, tossing them carelessly away onto the ground.

 

“That is disrespectful.” Worf comments with a disdainful frown.

 

“Oh yes.” Odo says dryly. “It’s wrong to damage ancient literature, no matter how insipid.” He glances at the cover of the book in his hands. “Molet is truly riveting.”

 

Kira smiles gently. “Mol-yare.” she corrects.

 

Bashir smiles as well at the mention of the author. “I love his work.” he admits.

 

Odo scoffs and tosses the book vaguely toward Bashir, and it lands on the floor at his feet as Bashir retrieves it, frowning and searching for signs of damage.

 

Odo abandons the books and starts instead to rifle through some of the filing cabinets. “There is absolutely nothing of interest to do in this insipid room.” he mutters.

 

“Speak for yourself.” Worf retorts as he tries to keep his own attention focused to a spare PADD. He has clearly found some sort of reading material to occupy him.

 

“As if I’d speak for you.” Odo replies with a grunt. “I’m not certain I even understand your language.”

 

“Are you expecting further discipline from your commanding officers?” Worf asks Kira curiously.

 

Kira shrugs. “I don’t know. Kai Winn wants me to spend some time in silent meditation but the Vedek just told me to blower her off.”

 

“I have heard that there is to be a gathering of some sort at Quark’s.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Will you be in attendance?”

 

“I doubt it....”

 

“Because of Kai Winn?” Worf assumed.

 

“Well it’s because if I do what Kai Winn tells me not to do, it’s because the Vedek says it’s okay. There’s like this whole big monster deal, it’s endless. Any minute there’s going to be some sort of political revolt and I don’t want to get involved.”

 

“Who do you like better?” Odo asked curiously.

 

“What?”

 

“If there was a religious fracture on Bajor. Would you want Kai Winn to remain in charge, or Vedek Bareil?”

 

“I dunno. I’d probably just ignore the whole thing.” she shrugged. “I mean I don’t think either one of them really cares about me or what the Prophets really want. It’s like they’re just using the worshippers to get back at each other.”

 

From the back, Jadzia lets out a loud single laugh. “Ha!”

 

Everyone looks shocked, but Jadzia looks smug.

 

“Shut up!” Kira snaps.

 

“You are only feeling defensive because the subject of your religion is so important to you.” Worf said. “If it were any other religion, surely you could see the irony of the situation.”

 

“Yeah? Well if I didn’t stick up for Bajor, nobody else would.”

 

“That is almost certainly untrue.” Worf countered.

 

“Klingon.” Odo interrupted.

 

“What?” Worf growled in response.

 

“Are you saying you’re not overly emotional and defensive of your own people, then?” Odo questioned.

 

“If I say that I am not, then I am a fool.”

 

“You’re a fool either way.” Odo stated. “If you say you’re not illogically defensive of the Klingons then you’re also a liar.”

 

Worf grits his teeth. “If we were not in a detention facility at present, I would challenge you to defend your words with actions.” he growls lowly.

 

Odo only scoffs and shakes his head in amusement, rolling his eyes skyward. “Typical.” he mutters to himself.

 

Bashir comes over and puts a hand on both Odo and Worf’s shoulders. “Guys, listen.” he tries with an amiable smile. “I mean...” he stutters as Worf glares down at the hand and Odo arches a stoic brow.

 

Worf shrugs out of his grasp.

 

“I’m defensive of my people as well.” Bashir explains. “We all are, aren’t we? I mean the Federation, Starfleet... they certainly aren’t perfect at times, they have their in-fighting as well.”

 

Odo scoffs. “Human.” he interrupts.

 

“Hm?”

 

“The Federation is quite possibly the most sickeningly sweet, idealistic society in this galaxy. What internal problems could you possibly be referring to?”

 

“Perhaps that idealism itself is a problem.” Bashir says a bit coldly, turning away.

 

“Look, I can see you holding a grudge against Starfleet for those horrendous uniforms they have you wearing. But let’s face it -- in the entire Alpha quadrant, the Federation is probably the most ideal society one can be a member of. You’ve got nothing of substance to complain about.”

 

“Why is it you make it your business to insult and harass every person on this station?” Worf ground out.

 

“I’m simply being honest. I would expect you of all people to know the difference.”

 

“If you are going to harass him personally, then you should do him the courtesy of knowing his name.”

 

“And I suppose you know it?” Odo asks with a smirk, crossing his arms.

 

“What is your name?” Worf demands of Bashir.

 

“Julian.” he answers, and Worf turns his gaze to Odo who rolls his eyes.

 

“My condolences.” Odo says.

 

“Well what’s your name?” Kira challenges.

 

“What’s yours?” he asks back.

 

“Kira Nerys.”

 

“Ner- _ys_?” he ask s mockingly.

 

“It’s a family name.” she defends hotly.

 

“It’s an artist’s name. I thought you were warrior caste.”

 

“We gave up our casts during the Occupation.” she defends.

 

“Ah. I see. So then you _are_ in the wrong caste.” he speculated. “Does that mean you’re more ashamed of being a poor artist? Or does it imply you’re a sub-par warrior?”

 

“I do just fine as a warrior!”

 

“Perhaps.” Odo concedes with a nod. “But if your people’s more ancient beliefs are to be respected, then it’s only a matter of time before you mess something up. No, you’re meant to be sitting pretty in some temple painting or weaving tapestries as your precious Prophets intended.”

 

Kira makes an obscene gesture.

 

“That’s a rather vulgar gesture for such a pristine girl.” Odo mocks.

 

“I’m not that pristine!”

 

“Do you even know the literal meaning of that gesture? I suspect that you don’t. In fact...” he circles around her, eyeing her up shrewdly. “If my observations don’t entirely deceive me, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re still a virgin.” He nods to himself. “I’d bet a strip of latinum on it.”

 

“Why don’t you just shut up?” Kira snaps.

 

“Have you ever even been kissed?” Odo presses. “Just how closely do you adhere to this will of the Prophets Bajor talks about so often? Do your people even date casually? Engage in those casual physical acts that the humans on the station seem to be caught up in at every opportunity?”

 

“Do you want me to puke?” Kira snaps back, trying not to look as upset as she feels.

 

“For such a chaste people, I’ve seen the sorts of clothes you still wear on festival days and I’ve seen how unreserved you are after a few glasses of spring wine. Hypocrites. And don’t get me started on the so-called miracle births.”

 

Worf growls, baring his teeth at Odo. “Enough! Leave her alone.”

 

“And I suppose you’ll use your brute strength to make me?” Odo asks sarcastically.

 

“Perhaps I will.”

 

Odo grunts in amusement. “You and how many of your friends?”

 

“I will not require my friends.” Worf threatens darkly. “Just the two of us. Two hits. I hit you, and you hit the floor.”

 

Odo swipes out with a fist, lightning fast, but Worf is faster, and in one abrupt move Odo finds himself flat on his back, staring up at the warrior and wincing.

 

“Pathetic.” Worf declares.

 

“I’m not going to engage in serious hand to hand with you. It wouldn’t be fair.” Odo informs him, getting up slowly.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because if I decided to engage the full extent of my Changeling abilities, I’d easily kill you. And Dukat wouldn’t be happy, no one on the station would be happy. It would turn into an ordeal....”

 

“Coward.” Worf declares, not buying a word of it. He turns and walks back to his seat, then turns his head abruptly as he hears a strange sound.

 

Odo’s body shifts rapidly, weapons of all sorts flickering into his hands, across his body. His face is a sort of wolf, a vicious monster, arms blurring to wild fiery heat. Uncountable changes in the blink of an eye before he settles back as humanoid form. The threat is clear.

 

“Let us end this right now.” Worf says regardless, his voice low and threatening. “You do not talk to her.” he gestures at Kira. “You do not look at at her, and you do not think about her. Do you understand?”

 

“I hardly doubt a _warrior_ such as herself appreciates your interference.” Odo says mockingly.

 

Just then, Garak the janitor comes into the room.

 

“Julian.” he smiles jauntily and nods. “How are you?”

 

“You know him?” Odo asks, eyeing Bashir speculatively, who only blushes.

 

“Garak.” Odo asks instead.

 

“Yes, my dear Odo?”

 

“Do you mind answering a question?”

 

“Not at all.” Garak answers magnanimously as he begins mopping the floor.

 

“How exactly does one become this station’s janitor?”

 

“Am I to take it that you’d like to be the janitor?” Garak asks, his eyes alight with amusement.

 

“Certainly not.” Odo grunts. “But Worf here...” he gestures to the Klingon, “Is very interested in pursuing a career in the custodial arts.”

 

Worf grits his teeth and growls warningly at Odo, but doesn’t wish to give offence to the janitor by denying it.

 

“Really?” Garak asks sweetly. “I suppose the lot of you think that I’m just some untouchable peasant? A peon? Hm? Maybe so, but chasing a broom around this station for the past eight years I’ve learned quite a number of things.” he smiles unnervingly. “I have access to your quarters. To your storage lockers. I clean your computer terminals while you’re away from your stations. I listen to your conversations. You don’t know, but I do. I am the eyes and ears of this space station, my friends. And by the way, that clock is twenty minutes fast.” he smirks, and mops his way out of the room.

 

Worf fumbles for a PADD to check the clock against, then mumbles a curse.

 

~~~

 

The clock reads 11:30, when Dukat leaves his office to stride into the library. “All right, that’s thirty minutes for lunch.” he announces.

 

“Here?” Worf asks.

 

“Here.” Dukat reiterates.

 

“Would not the replimat be a more suitable place for us to eat lunch, Sir?” Worf asks.

 

“I’m not interested in what you think, Mister Worf.” Dukat answers icily.

 

“And will drinks be made available?” Odo asks sarcastically.

 

“I did not pack something to drink with my lunch.” Worf agrees. “It was not made clear in the missive.”

 

“I have a very low tolerance for dehydration.” Kira chimes in.

 

Worf wrinkles his nose. “I have observed Bajorans in a state of dehydration. It is unappealing.”

 

Odo stands and moves his hands placatingly. “Relax. I’ll retrieve the drinks.” he offers.

 

“Back in your seat.” Dukat orders sharply, pointing for Odo to sit down, which he does slowly. “Do you honestly believe I’m going to have _you_ roaming these halls?” Dukat glances around. “You.” he points at Worf. “And you.” He points to Jadzia, who isn’t paying the room any mind, totally engrossed in a PADD. “Hey! What’s her name?” he clicks his fingers. “On your feet. Let’s go!” Jadzia looks up blinkingly and stands.

 

“There’s a food replicator at the end of the hall. You can get something there.” he directs.

 

~ ~~

 

“What is it that you drink?” Worf asked gruffly of the Trill striding next to him.

 

Jadzia doesn’t answer, so Worf repeats himself. “I asked you a question.” he says a bit forcefully. When Jadzia still doesn’t respond, Worf lets out a frustrated huff. “Forget it.”

 

“Blood wine.” Jadzia answers.

 

“Blood wine?” Worf asks skeptically. “ _You_ drink blood wine? When?”

 

“Whenever.” Jadzia says with a spread of her hands.

 

“How much?” he asks, still skeptical. Not many life forms can handle the strong Klingon drink.

 

“Tons.” Jadzia grins.

 

“Is that why you’re in the detention facility today?” Worf questions speculatively. “Some alcohol related charge?” Again, Jadzia doesn’t answer. “Why exactly is it that you are here?” he asks more suspiciously.

 

“Why are you here?” Jadzia snaps back, uncomfortable.

 

“General Martok believes I am rising to quickly among the ranks.” he says. “He does not wish for me to become conceited. Though I have very little influence over what the general perception is of me, or of my career path.” he adds somewhat bitterly.

 

“Yeah?” Jadzia asks, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. “That’s very interesting. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re really in here.”

 

Worf only grunts in frustration and keeps walking.

 

~~~

 

In the detention hall, Kira, Odo, and Bashir are sitting around waiting for Worf and Jadzia to return. Odo is continuing to flip through various books and PADDs the Cardassians have left in here.

 

“Major Kira.” he says as he smirks at one book. “How would you like to see a rather unfortunate and rare Cardassian medical condition?”

 

“No thank you.” she says with thinly veiled disgust.

 

“How do you know what you’ll think of it if you don’t look at it?” Odo presses, just to get under her skin.

 

Kira rolls her eyes.

 

“Would you ever consider dating a Cardassian?” Odo asks, setting the book aside. “Do you have any sympathy for the conquerors of your people?”

 

“My people aren’t conquered, Odo. The war is over.”

 

“No, they just have no teeth in this new arrangement. What if...” he continues with his earlier questioning, “The Cardassian in question had a great personality? A good dancer, a high rank.”

 

“Knock it off, Odo.” Kira snapped. “You know what I wish I was doing?” she asks, trying to change the subject.

 

“Be careful what you say, Kira. Julian here is even more innocent than you are.” Odo says dryly.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bashir asks with affront.

 

“I wish I was on a shuttlecraft to Bajor right now.” Kira goes on, ignoring them.

 

“I am _not_ innocent!” Bashir defend s.

 

“Have you ever been involved physically with _anyone_?” Odo ask s, his tone indicating how likely he thinks that to be. “In spite of the promiscuity of your species, I find it unlikely.”

 

“I’ve been with plenty of people!”

 

“Name one.”

 

“She’s on Earth.” Bashir says. “You wouldn’t know her.”

 

“Fine. Have you ever been with anyone on the station.” Odo clarifies.

 

Bashir shrugs uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Kira. He tries to make a shushing noise and gestures at Odo.

 

“Ah.” Odo says in mock understanding. “So you’re saying that you... and Kira...”

 

“What are you talking about?” Kira asks, suddenly paying attention to the conversation again.

 

“Nothing!” Bashir says abruptly, growing more flustered by the second. He looks at Odo a bit desperately. “Let’s just drop it. We’ll talk about it later.”

 

“No. Drop what?” Kira insists. “What’re you talking about?”

 

“Well.” says Odo. “Julian here has been trying to tell me that in addition to the number of women he’s slept with on Earth, that presently you and he are....” he repeats Kira’s rude gesture from earlier.

 

Kira opens her mouth in affront. “You little pig!”

 

Bashir shakes his head furiously in denial. “No, I’m not. I’m not! Odo said that I hadn’t... hadn’t _been_ with anyone, and I said that I had. That’s it! That’s all that was said!”

 

“Well then what were you motioning at Kira for?” Odo asks with smug satisfaction.

 

“You know,” Kira says, “I don’t appreciate this very much, Julian.”

 

“He is lying!” Julian insists.

 

“Oh, you weren’t motioning to Kira?” Odo asks innocently.

 

“You know he’s lying, right?” Julian asks desperately.

 

“Were you or were you not motioning to Kira?” Odo asks simply.

 

“Fine. I was.” Julian says with a furious blush. “But it was only... it was only because I didn’t want her to know that I-was-a-virgin, okay?” he mumbles and looks away. “Excuse me for not being as promiscuous as you accuse the whole of my species.”

 

Kira laughs. “Why didn’t you want me to know you were a virgin?”

 

“Because it’s personal business.” Julian answers, still not making eye contact. “It’s my personal, private business.” Julian is aware not for the first time of just how very young he is, and how little time he’s had for experience and experimentation.

 

Odo huffs a laugh. “Well, Julian, it doesn’t sound like you’re doing any business....”

 

“I think it’s okay for a guy to be a virgin.” Kira smiles.

 

“You do?” Bashir asks, looking up. Kira smiles and nods.

 

~~~

 

Everyone sits down to the lunches they’d brought along with them. Kira takes out a small box and opens it to reveal a sort of wrap.

 

“What’s that?” Odo asks, frowning at the strange smell of it.

 

“Guess. I suppose you don’t know much about food, not being able to eat?”

 

“My appetites lie elsewhere.” Odo says enigmatically.

 

“You’re nauseating.” Kira says, interpreting the open statement to be sexual.

 

Odo doesn’t correct her. He only grabs a bottle and tosses it to Jadzia across the room who catches it without looking up, seeming to confirm something for Odo who nods to himself. He turns his attention back to Kira’s lunch which she’s started eating.

 

“What _is_ that?” he asks again.

 

“ _Hasperat_.” she answers.

 

“ _Hasperat_?” he questions.

 

“It’s a sort of wrap made of pickled meats and vegetables. It’s Bajoran.”

 

“You won’t kiss a man but you’ll put that in your mouth.” Odo shakes his head.

 

“Can I eat?” Kira asks testily.

 

“You can try....” Odo says, mystified by the meal.

 

Worf unpacks several sandwiches from his bag. A slab of meat. A tub of  _gagh_ .  His drink of choice?  A jug of prune juice.

 

Jadzia opens her root beer and slurps the fizzing drink as it bubbles over.

 

Worf notices Odo watching him. “Is there a problem?”

 

In the back Jadzia opens her own carton of _gagh_ and begins to eat the wriggling tendrils.

 

Odo seats himself beside Bashir and starts to inspect Bashir’s lunch. “What’re we having today, Doctor?” he asks.

 

“It’s just your standard, regular lunch, I suppose....” Bashir stutters.

 

Odo reaches into the bag and pulls out a thermos. “Milk?”

 

“Soup.”

 

Odo pulls out a juice box. How juvenile. He sets it aside. Bashir reaches for his lunch and Odo slaps the hand out of the way.

 

“Apple juice.” Bashir nods at the box by way of explanation.

 

“I can read.” Odo informs him. “And sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Well, Doctor, this certainly is a perfectly balanced and nutritious lunch. All of the major food groups are represented. I don’t know whether to assign blame for your blandness to the Federation, your medical degree, or your personality.” he says.

 

“Bit of everything, I expect.” Bashir snarks back, pulling his food to himself with a bit of a glare and beginning to eat. Worf and Kira smirk at each other and Odo stands.

 

“I can just imagine the overly saccharine reports you Federation made to your Commanding Officers.” Odo said in mocking tones.

 

“Captain!

 

Doctor!

 

How is everything in the medical ward?

 

It’s going just swell, Captain!

 

Fantastic! When you’ve finished your inventory, how about you join us in the ward room for a small party?

 

That would be great Captain. But I have reports to fill out.

 

That’s all right, Doctor. You can do them during the party!

 

Hooray!

 

Isn’t being a member of the Federation just swell?

 

Yes, Sir. Isn’t _life_ swell?”

 

Finishing his diatribe, Odo makes a face of disgust and stalks to the other side of the room to leave a glaring Bashir to his lunch.

 

“If that is your impression of the Federation,” Worf says scathingly, “I would be interested to know how you’d depict your own people.”

 

“Oh but Commander, I wasn’t raised by my people. Surely you’ve heard. I was raised in a _lab_ , on _Bajor_.

 

“Why don’t you become the cube, Odo?” Odo asks in a mockingly vicious voice.

 

“Just a hundred more volts, Odo. That should serve as an incentive.”

 

“Ah, don’t like that do you, Changeling? What about two hundred volts? Will you be the cube then?” He raises his voice.

 

“What about radiation? Heat? Freezing cold? What do your Changeling cells do in response to a hot stove, Odo?”

 

“Are you serious?” Bashir asks in concern.

 

“You should meet _Doctor_ Mora.” Odo says scathingly. “I am sure you’d have plenty of fascinating medical experiments to talk about together.

 

“Lies.” Worf declares in a flat voice. “It is simply part of your image. I do not believe a word of it.”

 

“You don’t believe me?” Odo asks incredulously.

 

“No.” Worf states bluntly.

 

“No?”

 

“What part of no do you misunderstand?”

 

Odo comes around in front of Worf and holds out his arms, which shift to a fluid state and then shift to show a strange discolouration. “Do you see that,  _Commander_ ?” Odo asks harshly. “Permanent damage done to my DNA in my earliest days of awareness. Because I wouldn’t  _respond_ quickly enough to external stimuli.” He shifts back to his solid form and stalks away. Halfway across the room he shifts to his bird form again to fly up to the second floor railing, then shifts back to humanoid to sit down and seethe.

 

Everyone is left shifting uncomfortably in their seats, casting glances up at Odo. Kira has nearly lost her appetite. “You shouldn’t have said that.” she  says quietly to Worf.

 

“How was I to know that he was serious? Half of what comes out of his mouth are lies.” he defends, though it’s clear that he, too, is uncomfortable.

 

~~~

 

Later, fierce Cardassian cursing is heard across the hall as Dukat leaves his office. Within the detention centre, the group waits until his voice and footsteps fade away, then they ease out of the room and into the hall.

 

Odo leaves first, followed by everyone else. Odo and Kira are walking next to each other, with Bashir and Worf next, and Jadzia at the end of the line.

 

Kira turns to Odo. “How do you know where Dukat went?” she wants to know.

 

“I don’t.” Odo answers.

 

“Well then how do you know when he’ll be back?”

 

“I don’t. Live a little, Major.”

 

Bashir turns to Worf. “Why are we following him to that old security office to begin with?”

 

“I am uncertain.” Worf answers.

 

“This is stupid.” Bashir argues. “Why are we risking getting caught?”

 

“I do not know.”

 

“So then what are we doing?”

 

“Doctor, if you ask me one more question I will silence you myself.” Worf warns darkly.

 

“Sorry.” Bashir mutters and follows along. They’ve come to the end of the hall and Odo has keyed in some sort of code to a security panel. Everyone watches with interest as he seems to actually know the codes, and they wonder where he got them.

 

Odo goes into the room and begins to look around. There are various odd weapons. Medical supplies. Various plants or bottles of liquor. Finally, his eyes land on a particular piece of electronics.

 

“A remote listening device.” Bashir says incredulously.

 

“ _My_ remote listening device.” Odo corrects.

 

“That device is illegal.” Worf points out unnecessarily. “It was confiscated for a reason. You should return it.”

 

“He had a remote listening device.” Bashir says to himself, shaking his head, as Odo leaves the room, leading the way out.

 

Kira rolls her eyes and follows Odo.

 

“He has a remote listening device!” Bashir is still saying, totally incredulous that no one seems to care enough to put a stop to it. That Changeling could be listening to any of them on the station.

 

Worf only grunts in frustration, levelling his glare at Bashir as well as he stalks out. Jadzia is still staring around with her mouth hanging open in surprise.

 

“Do you approve of this?” Bashir asks her and turns to leave. Jadzia shuts her mouth and looks around furtively, before snatching a knife off one of the desks and slipping it into her bag, then following after.

 

“We’ll cross through the hydroponics lab and then double back.” Odo explains as he walks.

 

“I hope that you are right.” Worf tells him. “If Dukat finds us missing, I will place the blame squarely on you.”

 

Bashir looks to Kira. “What’d he say? Where are we going?”

 

The group freeze as they see Gul Dukat stalking down one of the far halls. The second Dukat is out of sight, everyone runs through the more isolated section of the station on their way back, until they stop.

 

“Hold it!” Odo calls a halt. “We have to go through the replimat.”

 

“Are you insane?” Worf demands. “We would be seen by nearly everyone on the station, and we do not need more witnesses. We should go through engineering, minimise our exposure.”

 

Odo lets out a frustrated scoff. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“It is you who do not know what you are saying!” Worf retorts and Jadzia lets out a surprised squeak, eyes wide as she waits tensely, looking from one to the other. “We are through listening to you.” Worf continues. “We are going this way.” He begins to lead, and everyone follows the new leader.

 

Eventually, however, they come to the end of a hall closed off by an iron grate, and Worf lets out a roar of frustration.

 

“Fantastic idea, Commander.” Odo says sarcastically.

 

Worf rounds on him and mutters something fiercely in Klingon that the translator doesn’t catch.

 

“Fuck you!” Kira shouts at Worf. “Why didn’t we listen to Odo?”

 

“We’re dead.” Bashir asserts.

 

“No.” Odo says determinedly. “Just me.”

 

“What do you mean?” Bashir asks.

 

“Get back to the detention centre. Keep an eye on this.” He shoves his listening device down the front of Julian’s pants, then he drops into liquid form and speeds off down the hall to distract Dukat. After a moment, there’s a shouting of Gul Dukat as Odo is spotted. The rest of them run the opposite direction.

 

~~~

 

“Changeling!” Dukat yells and races off after the moving puddle.

 

Odo comes to a halt in one of the training rooms the Klingons favour, pulling down various _bat’leths_ from the wall and inspecting them.

 

“Odo! What is this? What are you doing here, what is this?” Dukat demands.

 

“Ah, good afternoon, Dukat.” Odo acknowledges with a nod.

 

“Out!” Dukat shouts at him. “That’s it, Odo. Get out. It’s over.”

 

“I take it you don’t want to hear my excuse?” Odo asks idly.

 

“Out!”

 

“I’m thinking of taking up Klingon martial arts. Making something of myself as you suggested. I need more hobbies during all of my free time.”

 

“Give me that.” Dukat pulls the _bat’leth_ from Odo’s grasp, who lets Dukat take it. Dukat hangs it violently back on the wall and holds out his arm ahead of himself for Odo precede him from the training room. They leave.

 

When Dukat makes it back to the detention centre, everyone is sitting as before. “Get your stuff.” Dukat directs Odo. “Let’s go!” He turns to everyone else. “Odo here has taken it upon himself to go on an excursion through the station. I’m sorry to inform you, you’re going to be without his services for the rest of the day.”

 

“I’m crushed.” Odo says sarcastically.

 

“Everything’s a joke to you.” Dukat says, shaking his head. “The security footage you disrupted. The command codes you hacked. Extremely funny. What if it were _your_ family under threat from an outsider?” Dukat pressed. “Nevermind, I forget you’r e an outcast, the only of your kind. What if your surveillance devices were under threat?”

 

“That’s impossible, Sir.” Odo says snidely as he picks up his PADD to leave. “It’s in Doctor Bashir’s pants.

 

Worf chokes on a near laugh of incredulity at Odo’s brazenness and Bashir looks like he’s going to faint.

 

“You think he’s funny?” Dukat demands of Worf. “You think this is cute, Commander? Is that it? Let me tell you something. Look at him. He’s useless.” He looks out at everyone. “If you want to see something _funny_ , check in on Odo in five years. See how far he’s gotten with his lack of respect for the rules, while the rest of you advance in your chosen careers.” He turns his cold gaze back to Odo. “Let’s go.” He grabs Odo’s upper arm to escort him from the room.

 

Odo wrenches free of his grasp. “I’ll thank you to keep your hands off of me. I’d expect better manners from you, Dukat.” Odo walks out of the room of his own volition, Dukat slightly behind.

 

~~~

 

Dukat has put Odo in a closet, and is in there talking to him.

 

“This is the last time, Odo.” Dukat hisses threateningly. “That’s the last time you _ever_ make me look bad in front of someone on this station, do you hear me? I haven’t been given nearly the power or prestige that is my due, and this station is all that I have, and I am _not_ going to throw it all away due to some punk of a Changeling with no life. Some day, Odo, when you’re off this station and you’ve forgotten all about this place, and they’ve forgotten all about you, and you’re wrapped up in your own pathetic life. I’m going to be there. That’s right. And I’m going to make you regret every single infraction you’ve made on this space station, and the Federation and the Bajorans and the Klingons won’t be there to curb my power any more.”

 

“Are you threatening me?” Odo asks.

 

“What are you going to do about it? Hm? You think anybody would believe you? Do you think they’d take your word over mine? Who would you tell? The Klingons? The Federation? The _Bajorans_?” he asks mockingly. “And who’s going to stick their neck out for you? Who’s going to move against Cardassia? I’m a man of respect around here. You, however, are a Changeling and a trouble maker, and everybody knows it. Oh, you like to think that you’re real tough. Let’s find out how tough you are. I want to know right now how tough you are. Come on!” Dukat juts out his chin as he leans in close. “I’ll give you the first punch. Let’s go. Come on, right here, just take the first shot. I’m begging you, take a shot! Come on, just take one shot, that’s all I need, just one swing...” Dukat taunts him.

 

Odo knows it’s a trap, but it takes every ounce of his control to stay still, to not take Dukat up on his offer. Actual assault on the station’s leader would not be well tolerated by any of the factions ruling the station.

 

Dukat fakes a punch and Odo flinches. “That’s what I thought. You’re a coward.” Dukat says, and leaves the closet, locking it behind him.

 

Odo rolls his eyes and reverts to his liquid form, easily squeezing himself into the wall through a crack and making his way through the walls of the station.

 

Once he comes into a large enough crawl space, he solidifies into humanoid form, and continues to crawl through the shaft, talking to himself. “A naked blond walks into a bar.” He says. “With a poodle under one arm, and a two foot salami under the other.” He grunts in amusement. “She lays the poodle on the table. The bartender says: ‘I suppose you won’t be needing a drink.’ The naked lady says --”

 

Just then, the ceiling collapses under Odo and he shifts to fall like rain to the floor, resolidifying when he’s safely on the ground. He walks stoically down the stairs from the second floor of the detention centre to the first as everyone watches. “I forgot my stylus.” he says, picking it up from where he’d left it.

 

In the hall, they can hear Dukat rant. “What in Prime’s name is going on in here?” he shouts, opening the door. “What was that ruckus?”

 

“What ruckus?” Worf asks stoically.

 

“I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus.” Dukat says dangerously.

 

Bashir speaks up. “Could you describe the ruckus, Sir?”

 

“Watch your tongue, Doctor.” Dukat glares.

 

At the first sign of trouble, Odo had reverted to his liquid state and pooled under the table at Kira’s feet. Now, he solidifies back into his humanoid form and bangs on the table. He groans. Above the table, Kira and Worf each clear their throats.

 

“What is that?” Dukat asks, gazing around sharply. “What is that noise?”

 

Under the table, Odo smirks as he realizes the view he has of Major Kira’s crotch, her legs spread masculinely as always.

 

“What noise?” Worf asks Dukat.

 

“Really, Sir, there wasn’t any noise.” Kira assures him. Sensing what Odo must be fixated on beneath the table, she jabs a swift kick at whatever her foot can reach. Odo stifles a grunt of pain, and the room erupts into fake coughs and cleared throats as they try to cover the racket.

 

“That noise?” Kira questions innocently. “Was that the noise you were talking about?”

 

“No, it wasn’t.” Dukat growls out. “That was not the noise I was talking about. Now I may not have caught you in the act this time, but you can bet I will.”

 

Jadzia coughs out an abrupt laugh that she struggles to hold in.

 

“You can count on that.” Dukat levels his glare at Dax. “And you!” he turns his gaze back on Kira. “I will not be made a fool of.”

 

As he turns away, everyone can see that he has toilet paper stuck to the bottom of his boot as it trails behind. Once the door is shut, everyone erupts into laughter except for Kira who lets Odo out to a barrage of slaps.

 

“I assure you, Major, I did absolutely nothing untoward.” he defends.

 

“You’re an asshole!” Kira insists.

 

Odo grunts and rolls his eyes. “Sue me.” he says flippantly as he escapes her blows. He walks over to Bashir. “My listening device, if you please?” He holds out a hand.

 

Bashir awkwardly fishes out the electronic gadget and places it in Odo’s hand. Odo walks off, up the stairs to the second level with it, already turning it on and fussing with it.

 

“Just what is it you intend to do with that?” Worf demands to know.

 

“Not that it’s any of your business what I do with my belongings,” Odo tells him, “But I intend to have a little listen around the station. If I tune it right I should be able to pick up incoming transmissions from Cardassia Prime, from Bajor, the Federation. You’re welcome to join me.” he offers to the rest of the room as he makes his way upstairs to a little secluded area.

 

“I cannot believe you will conduct your criminal activities in here!” Worf shouts with indignation.

 

Kira glances around surreptitiously, then quietly gets up and follows Odo. This opportunity is too much for her to pass up. Bashir is close behind. Worf gives a frustrated grunt, then follows as well, leaving only Jadzia behind.

 

~~~

 

Later, Odo is sitting with his listening device tuned in to Cardassia Prime as he streams in the latest reports, listening with interest. The room has gone to complete chaos. Kira has managed to find a hidden stash of _kanar_ in one of the storage closets after she picked a lock, and now she and Bashir are getting seriously tipsy.

 

“Do you know how popular I am on this station?” drunk Kira asks with a giggle. “I’m so popular. Everybody loves me. And not just the Bajorans. The Federation... Quark... Morn....”

 

“Quark loves any woman he lays eyes on.” Odo says derisively.

 

Bashir gives a small giggle and just lets the effects of the _kanar_ wash over him. It isn’t often he indulges in something like this, but after the day he’s been having, the week, the month, he just wants to unwind.

 

Worf has been fussing with the room’s comm. system and he’s now hacked it and Klingon Opera begins to blast into the space. He lets out a mighty roar and begins to sing along.

 

~~~

 

Dukat sits at his desk in his office, and calls up restricted documents on the Changeling, Odo. He’s hacked further into the system than his security clearance would normally allow. “Well, well, Mister Odo. What a history we have here.” he says with interest.

 

Garak enters with his cleaning gear and begins to work over the office with his usual efficiency. “Good afternoon, Dukat.” he greets.

 

“Garak.” Dukat smiles as he continues to skim and scroll. “How are you?”

 

“Oh, I’m fine.” Garak says with an amicable smile, peering over Dukat’s shoulder while he cleans.

 

“What’s new in your life?” Dukat queries. “We so rarely get to talk.”

 

“Oh, not much.” Garak dissembles. “My life is only that of a simple janitor, as you well know.” he says. “Are those classified files I see you looking at there?” Garak asks curiously.

 

“Nothing of much consequence.” Dukat dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Just doing a little research on our Changeling friend.”

 

“Research, is it?” Garak asks.

 

“Of course.”

 

“I can’t imagine the Obsidian Order would be happy to know that someone of such low rank had access to such sensitive material.” Garak muses.

 

Dukat looks up sharply at the implied threat. “Listen, Garak. This is highly sensitive information, and I think you and I both know very well that certain parties wouldn’t be happy if they knew that it was in my hands. I would appreciate it greatly if you would keep this to yourself.”

 

“Hmm.” Garak smiles enigmatically. “And what is it you’re going to do for me?”

 

“What is it you want?” Dukat asks warily. He’s never fully trusted this simple janitor.

 

“I want your security codes. For strictly janitorial reasons, of course.” he says smoothly.

 

“What?” Dukat asks dumbly.

 

“You heard me.” Garak says with his usual smile. “The codes?” he asks.

 

~~~

 

Bashir is singing along with Worf’s Klingon opera, poorly. Jadzia is watching the proceedings with amusement from the back of the room.

 

“Do you have a middle name?” Worf questions Bashir as they drink together, as Bashir finishes explaining the origin of his name.

 

“Yes. Don’t you?” Bashir asks curiously.

 

“It is a human custom. It is not done among Klingons.”

 

Jadzia wanders over to them. “Your middle name is Richard.” she says enigmatically. Bashir and Worf both look up in confusion. “You’re five-nine and a half. You weigh a hundred and thirty pounds, and your Starfleet ID is 0-4-9-3-8-0-9-1.”

 

Bashir looks at her in slight alarm. “Would you mind telling me how you know all of this about me?” he asks.

 

Dax reaches into her back pocket. “I’m not a spy, if that’s what you’re worried about. I stole your wallet.” she says, then pulls it out and grins.

 

“Give it back!” Bashir demands, jaw clenching.

 

“No.” Jadzia answers, tapping the wallet to her chin playfully.

 

“Give it!” Bashir makes a bit of a lunge, and Jadzia lets him take it from her. He immediately rifles through it to make sure that nothing’s missing.

 

“This is great. You’re a thief.” Bashir mutters.

 

“I’m not a thief!” Jadzia argues.

 

“Multi-talented.” Bashir says.

 

“What’s there to steal, anyway?” Jadzia comes back. “No latinum. Only an ID card and a beaver shot.”

 

“A what?” Worf asks in confusion.

 

“He’s got a nude picture in there.” Jadzia says with a roll of her eyes. “Juvenile.”

 

“Really?” Worf looks interested, and reassesses Bashir.

 

~~~

 

Odo, meanwhile, is going through Kira’s makeup kit. He’s rubbing her black eye makeup between his fingers discerningly.

 

Kira is flicking through the information stored in Odo’s PADD. “Who are all these people?” Kira asks. “Your old girlfriends?”

 

“Some of them.” he says vaguely.

 

“What about the others?”

 

“Some I consider to be old girlfriends, and some of them I consider.”

 

“Consider what?”

 

“Whether I want to pursue them.”

 

“You don’t believe in just one guy, one girl?” Kira asks.

 

“Do you?”

 

“Of course.” she says. “That’s the way it should be.”

 

Odo grunts sardonically. “Well. Not for me.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Odo shrugs his shoulders defensively. “Why do you carry all this makeup around with you?” he gestures at the pile. It’s clearly more than she’s currently wearing.

 

“Why do you keep contact info. for so many people in here?” Kira counters.

 

“I asked you first.”

 

Kira shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I just never throw anything away.”

 

“Neither do I.”

 

“Oh.” Kira raises her brows, unimpressed.

 

~~~

 

Worf, Bashir, and Jadzia are still sitting together. Worf is now looking through the contents of Bashir’s wallet.

 

“This is a fake ID.” he says with a scowl.

 

Bashir looks confused for a second and leans over to see what Worf is looking at, then laughs. “I forgot I still even had that thing. It’s from back when I was still at University.”

 

“Do you realize that you made yourself sixty-eight but with a photo that cannot be much past your mid-teens?”

 

“Oh, I know.” Bashir admits with a grin. “I goofed it.”

 

“For what purpose did you need it to begin with?”

 

“So I could vote.” Bashir answers with a grin, as Worf eyes him skeptically.

 

“You want to see what I carry?” Jadzia offers.

 

Worf and Bashir simultaneously give an emphatic “No.”

 

Jadzia stares at them belligerently, and systematically begins to empty the pockets of her garish Ferengi-style jacket and pants. There’s a wallet overstuffed with IDs and latinum. A thin spare blouse, socks, underwear. A pocket knife, a small phaser. The knife she lifted from the back office earlier. Feminine care supplies. Two ration bars. A bit of makeup. A dermal regenerator.

 

“Is it entirely necessary to carry so many belongings?” Worf asks with distaste.

 

“Do you always carry this much?” Bashir asks curiously as he goes through her stack of IDs. Some are for past lives of hers.

 

“Yes I always carry this much. You never know when you’ll need it.” she says.

 

“You think you’ll need spare clothes?” Bashir presses. “Ration bars? A dermal regenerator? Just where is it you think you’re going to end up?”

 

“Wherever.” she says vaguely. “I’ll go where I have to go.”

 

“Why do you have to go anywhere?”

 

“After three hundred years of experience, I know that the political climate can shift suddenly and drastically at any moment. You can’t rely on staying in one place. We could be attacked tomorrow by any number of factions, or by a single terrorist, which can render this station or even this section of the galaxy unsafe.”

 

“So you’d, what, risk moving all the way out to Romulus or something if Cardassia or Bajor went south?” Bashir asks.

 

“I don’t have to move to Romulus if Cardassia is unsafe.” she counters. “I could move to Vulcan. Andor. Qo’noS. A remote Terran colony.”

 

Bashir looks skeptical, and then looks over to Worf. “What do you make of it, Worf? Jadzia here says that if Terok Nor goes south, she’ll move to Qo’noS.”

 

Worf looks equally skeptical. “The Klingon homeworld is hardly a pleasure planet.” he says. “Few outworlders find themselves comfortable there.”

 

“Understandably.” Bashir agrees. “But Dax thinks that Qo’noS would be some sort of safe haven if the Cardassians decided to get themselves involved in another war.”

 

“Fine. Forget it.” Jadzia says shortly, spreading her hands. She begins picking up her belongings and stashing them away in various pockets.

 

“I did not mean to imply that you are unwelcome on Qo’noS should the need arise.” Worf says uncomfortably as he watches Jadzia angrily put away her things. “I am only speaking truth when I say that outworlders find themselves uncomfortable.”

 

“For your information,” she says hotly, “One of my previous hosts had extensive contact with Klingons. I probably know more about Klingon history and culture than some Klingons do. But that’s not the point. This is hardly about moving to Qo’noS.”

 

Jadzia, finished packing up, stalks away.

 

“That woman is an island.” Bashir muses to himself as he looks after her, and Worf gets up to follow.

 

~~~

 

“Are you all right?” Worf asks lowly as he leans against the wall next to where Dax has stationed herself.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Have I said something to offend?” he asks uncomfortably.

 

“No. No, I’m just being overly sensitive.” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’m a long way from my home world and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt like my home has any sense of permanency. Even less so in this tense political climate.”

 

“I believe I can understand.” Worf confesses. “I, too, am a long way from any home I have known. Earth, where my parents reside. Qo’noS. The _Enterprise_. None of them have anything left for me to go back to.”

 

They share a look of profound understanding and a little sadness, then stand against the wall in comfortable silence together, contemplating this place they find themselves.

 

~~~

 

Dukat looks to Garak who is still in his office. Garak has finished cleaning and is just sitting comfortably to talk.

 

“What did you want to be when you were young?” Dukat asks.

 

“Oh, a tailor, I imagine.” Garak says with a small smile.

 

“Be serious.” Dukat chastises him. “I am making a point. Everyone wants to be something. A high ranking military or political figure. Perhaps even a member of the Obsidian Order. I’ve been working my way toward this position for twenty two years. I’ve been nothing but kind to these people, even during the Occupation. And how do they repay me? Every year they are more arrogant, less grateful for what I try to provide.”

 

Garak scoffs. “Really, Dukat. You want to speak of arrogance? The people haven’t changed. People rarely do. If you think there’s some difference, look within yourself. You probably pursued this post initially because you wanted the power, which is only logical. Who wouldn’t? But you thought once you had gained control of something, it would be easy, and now you find it’s actually work.”

 

“These people turned on me.” Dukat insists. “It was I who implemented the more lenient disciplinary measures, who pushed for an end to the war. Now they act as if I personally implemented every labour camp during the Occupation.”

 

“And if you were Bajoran, what would you think of yourself?”

 

Dukat scoffs. “You really think I care what any random Bajoran thinks of me? Thinks of any Cardassian?”

 

“Indeed I do.”

 

Dukat is silent for a moment, staring into space contemplatively. “You think about this, Garak. When Bajor has rebuilt its economy, the Federation and Bajor are going to team up to get Cardassia _off_ this station, and they might even succeed. We’ll be off our own station faster than you can blink.”

 

“Really?” Garak asks mildly, smiling indulgently.

 

“And this is the thought that really keeps me up at night. If Cardassia Prime doesn’t get its own act together, Bajor and the Federation might one day be taking care of Cardassia.”

 

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Garak says with a smile, and gets up to go back to his cleaning supplies, as Dukat stares off with a frown.

 

~~~

 

In the detention centre, everyone is sitting on the floor in a circle. There are empty bottles of kanar littered around them, though the party has calmed down.

 

“What would I do for a million strips of latinum?” Worf asks in confusion, repeating what someone else had asked. “I suppose I would do as little as was required.”

 

“That’s boring.” Kira complains.

 

“What is the required response to this game?” Worf asks in obvious irritation.

 

Kira explains. “The idea is to search your mind for the absolute limit. For example, would you show up at work naked?”

 

Worf contemplates the question. “Is it required for anyone to actually witness the event?”

 

“Of course.” Kira grins.

 

“For my Federation posting or on the Klingon ship?” he asks as he contemplates the scenario.

 

“It doesn’t matter. Klingon.” she says randomly.

 

“Under General Martok’s command?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Yes.” he nods. Kira’s jaw drops open in shock and Bashir chokes a bit on a laugh. Well, that answer was certainly unexpected.

 

“I’d do that.” Jadzia chimes in. They all look to her. “I’d do anything sexual and I don’t need a million strips of latinum to do it either.”

 

“You’re lying.” Kira says with a roll of her eyes.”

 

“I’m nearly three hundred years old.” Jadzia counters, folding her arms across her chest smugly. “I’ve already done just about everything there is except a few things that are illegal.”

 

“Lie.” Kira says, rolling her eyes skyward.

 

“Do you let your partners know about such a past when you choose to date someone?” Bashir asks.

 

“I tell some of them.” she answers enigmatically.

 

“And what is the general reaction?” Worf asks.

 

“They usually want to do something experimental.” Jadzia grins.

 

“Lovely.” Kira says sarcastically, clearly uncomfortable with all the sexual talk.

 

“I don’t think that it really counts as objectifying me in any way, since I’m the one to bring it up.” Jadzia mused. “Although it might be considered objectifying if the partner in question wants me to literally act as an object, like a foot rest....”

 

“That’s degrading.” Kira says with disgust.

 

“It’s hardly the worst object one can be asked to play.” Jadzia answers. “For example, what if he’d asked me to be a toilet?”

 

“Do you have any idea how completely disgusting that is?”

 

“Well, the first few times --”

 

“First few times? You mean you’ve done that more than once?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Are you crazy?”

 

“Obviously she’s crazy if she’s acting as a human waste receptacle.” Bashir says.

 

“Have you ever done it?” Jadzia asks Kira.

 

“I think it’s safe to say I’ve never pretended to be a toilet.” Kira answers in disgust.

 

“I mean have you ever had regular sex with a regular person.”

 

“Didn’t we already cover this?” Kira asks defensively.

 

“You never answered the question.” Odo recalls.

 

“Look, I’m not going to discuss my private life with total strangers.” Kira says, crossing her arms.

 

“It’s kind of a double-edged sword, isn’t it?” Jadzia asks.

 

“A what?”

 

“Well if you say you haven’t, you’re a prude. If you say you have, you’re a slut. It’s a trap. You want to but you can’t, but when you do you wish you didn’t, right?”

 

“Wrong.”

 

“Or are you a tease?”

 

“She is a tease.” Worf declares.

 

“Why don’t you just forget it?”

 

“You are a tease.” Worf reiterates. “All women are teases.”

 

Odo turns to Worf. “She’s only a tease if what she does is sexually alluring.”

 

“I don’t do anything!” Kira shouts.

 

“That’s why you’re a tease.” Jadzia says with a smile.

 

“Okay, let me ask you a few questions.” Kira turns the tables.

 

“I’ve already told you everything.” Jadzia says guardedly.

 

“No! Doesn’t it bother you to sleep around without being in love? I mean, don’t you want any respect?”

 

“I don’t have sex to get respect.” Jadzia answers. “That’s the difference between you and me.”

 

“Not the only difference, I hope.” Kira says flippantly.

 

“Perhaps you are a tease.” Odo muses.

 

“I’m not a tease!” Kira shouts.

 

“You said it yourself.” Odo explains. “Sex is a weapon that you use to get respect.”

 

“I never said that.” Kira defends. “She twisted my words around.”

 

“Oh? Then what do you use it for?” Odo asks.

 

“I don’t use it, period!” she yells, on the verge of tears.

 

“And why is that? Lack of contenders, personal preference, religious indoctrination...” Odo speculates.

 

“You guys are putting words into my mouth!”

 

“Well if you’d just answer the question.” Odo says.

 

“Why don’t you just answer the question?” Bashir asks.

 

“It is a simple matter.” Worf adds.

 

“It really isn’t that big of a deal.” Odo says.

 

“You may as well just answer it.” Bashir tells her.

 

Kira silences all of them by screaming. “No! I never did it!”

 

There is a moment of silence, as everyone absorbs her confession.

 

“I haven’t done half the things I said, either.” Jadzia confesses. “I prefer longer-term commitments. I just wanted to wind you up.”

 

“You are such a bitch!” Kira snaps. “You did that on purpose just to fuck with me!”

 

“I would be experimental, though.” Jadzia says. “If you’re in love with someone, I think it’s okay.”

 

“I can’t believe you.” Kira says. “You’re so weird. You don’t say anything all day and then when you open your mouth you unload all these tremendous lies.”

 

“You are only annoyed because she got you to admit to something you did not want to discuss.” Worf says.

 

“Fine.” Kira admits. “But that doesn’t make it any less bizarre.”

 

“I do not consider it to be so bizarre.” Worf speculates. “Indeed, I imagine that we all have personal attributes influenced by our culture and upbringing that an outsider would have difficulty in understanding.”

 

“And what about you.” Kira challenges. “What’s so strange about you, then?”

 

“He’s torn between two worlds.” Jadzia answers for him.

 

“She is correct.” Worf admits. “I am never fully at home in either the Federation or Klingon Empire.” He sits quietly for a moment. “Are any of you aware of what I did to wind up in the detention centre?” he questions, but everyone shakes their head. “I wound up challenging a fellow crewman to ritual battle in response to affront. A Federation crewman.”

 

Kira laughs.

 

“That was you?” Bashir asks.

 

“You know of him?” Worf asks him.

 

“I think I treated that man in the infirmary.” Bashir admits. “He was pretty beat up.”

 

“The amount of damage... was unintentional.” Worf admits uncomfortably. “I forget at times how very fragile a human body is in comparison to that of a Klingon. When we fight each other, Klingons rarely break one another’s bones.”

 

“Oh God...” Kira breathes as the extent of the damage dawns on her.

 

“Perhaps the strangest part of the entire fight is that I did it for the Klingon Empire.” Worf confesses. “I hear continually from my Klingon crew, implications that I am not fully one of them. There is a constant testing and trying of my honour, my strength, my integrity, my understanding of the culture and its values. At times I believe that it is I who understand the culture even more-so than any of them, but they have less to prove. General Martok himself adopted me into his house after years of my having been in exile of my homeworld. I have the most to prove to him.”

 

“There are continual fights on a Klingon ship.” he continued. “Fights for hierarchy. Fighting due to some real or perceived affront. In the mess hall, in the training room. So although I was interacting with a member of the Federation at the time, when he questioned my orders, I reacted instinctively as I would on a Klingon ship. Before I had time to fully think, we were engaged in battle.

 

“Later, as Captain Sisko had a private meeting with General Martok to discuss my discipline and whose purview it should fall under, all I could think of was how very fragile humans are. And how humiliated the man must feel having to seek treatment in the infirmary for wounds I had caused, his disgrace worn over his body.

 

“And I wasn’t even certain whether Martok would mete out fitting discipline for my actions, or whether he would feel some sort of misplaced Klingon pride. That he might be pleased with the pain I had inflicted on a helpless man.”

 

“I think your general Martok and my Doctor Mora would get along well.” Odo says with a shake of his head, to which Worf barks out a mirthless laugh.

 

“It’s like me,” Bashir says, “And the pressure I feel from everyone, _everyone_ in my life, for me to succeed. No matter what I do, I don’t like what I see.”

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Kira asks. “Why don’t you like yourself?”

 

“Do you know why I took this assignment?” Julian asked. “I told everyone it was my first choice.” he confessed. “A real chance to do frontier medicine. I was second in my class, and had my pick of assignments. People wondered why I’d strand myself out at the edge of the known universe. And in some ways, the excuses I gave were true. I _do_ like the unique challenges that come along with the assignment. I like the fact that I have more power here than I’d likely get in a cushier location.

 

“But the real reason I wanted it is because I’m a coward. I took it for two main reasons: to escape the criticism of my parents, and because I thought it would be easy. Ironic that once I finally was out of direct line of sight from my biggest critics, I would still be so concerned with my image. But I thought it would be easy out here to maintain a high performance. Easy to look good, to seem like a hero. Without actually having to exert myself too hard. After all, when I first arrived, this was a sleepy little station with very little happening. On a day to day basis, what challenges was I likely to face?”

 

“Why’d you think it’d be easy?” Odo asks, crossing his arms.

 

“Come on.” Bashir scoffs. “The war had just ended. Cardassia, Bajor, and the Federation all had a sort of joint custody of the station. With that sort of political tug of war and no war on, nothing was going to happen on the station any time soon. And it’s not as if anyone else who’s on the station really wanted to be here.”

 

“ _I_ chose to be here.” Odo counter s defensively. “You really are arrogant.”

 

“I’m arrogant because I believe I’m one of the few people willingly living on this station?”

 

“No, you’re a Saint for living on the station.” Odo answers sarcastically.

 

“What do you know about medicine?”

 

“What do you know about security?”

 

“I could care less about security. Do you have any idea how much studying it takes to become a competent surgeon for one species, let alone the roster of aliens aboard this station?”

 

“And do you have any idea how much time I’d dedicated to gaining sufficient knowledge of the security systems on this station before being demoted?”

 

“Okay!” Kira interrupts in frustration. “So neither one of you is any better than the other one.”

 

“I can write with my toes.” Jadzia says suddenly to diffuse the tension. She grins. “I can also eat with them, brush my teeth...”

 

“With your feet?” Kira asks incredulously.

 

“... play Heart & Soul on the piano.” Jadzia finishes.

 

Bashir smiles at the attempt at a lighter topic. “I’m fairly good at racketball, myself.” he offers.

 

Kira smiles and looks to Worf. “What about you? What can you do?”

 

“I likely can beat any of you in combat.” he says, shifting uncomfortably as he alludes to the reason he’s in the detention centre in the first place.

 

“I’d like to know what Major Kira can do.” Odo says, eyeing her speculatively.

 

“I can’t do anything.” she shakes her head.

 

“Now, everybody has some hidden talent.” Odo insists.

 

Kira looks around at everyone and blushes, biting her bottom lip. “Well there is one thing I can do.... No, forget it, it’s way too embarrassing.” she says, shaking her head.

 

“I take it you’ve been to Quark’s?” Odo asks. “Nearly every thing that Ferengi has done is an embarrassment to everyone on the station. If he can go on doing what he does day by day....”

 

“Okay, but you have to swear you won’t laugh.” Kira says. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this....”

 

Kira takes out her lipstick and opens it. She places it between her breasts in her tight-fitting uniform, and applies it to her lips via her cleavage. When she lifts her head, her lipstick is perfect. Everyone claps, but Odo’s clap is slow and sarcastic.

 

“Where does one learn such a thing?” Worf asks curiously.

 

Kira sighs. “Down time during the Occupation, if you can believe it. There’s a surprising amount of time to kill when you’re hiding out and waiting for your next target.”

 

“My image of Bajorans is totally changed.” Odo says sarcastically.

 

“You’re a shit.” Jadzia snaps at him. “Don’t do that to her. You swore you wouldn’t laugh!”

 

“Am I laughing?” he asks.

 

“You are without honour.” Worf declares.

 

“You’ve said that before.” Odo says. “I don’t even matter, do I?” he presses. “This station would be improved with my absence.” he quotes back at Worf. “And you,” he looks to Kira. “You don’t like me anyway.”

 

“You know, I have just as many feelings as you do and it hurts just as much when somebody steps all over them!” she shouts.

 

“Pathetic.” Odo grunts. “Don’t you dare condescend to compare yourself with me. You think that because you endured the Occupation, you deserve some sort of award? Poor little Bajoran, oppressed by the Cardassians.”

 

“Shut up...”

 

“Well let me tell you something. At least you got to fight back when you were being oppressed. You weren’t in some lab being electrocuted by a gleeful Bajoran madman.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“And now that the war is over, your people have considerable influence and power on this station. I don’t even know whether my people exist aside from myself. You have everything, while I have nothing.”

 

“What do your compatriots think of you know, Major Kira?” Odo presses. “Working with the Cardassians day by day.”

 

“Shut your mouth.” Kira answers, nearly crying.

 

“I’ll bet they call you a sympathizer. Perhaps even a collaborator.”

 

“Shut up!” Kira screams furiously.

 

“I’ll bet they do. I’ll bet the reason you’re so bent out of shape is because you’ve become the very thing you’ve railed against for years.” Odo finishes viciously, as Kira starts quietly crying.

 

The room is silent for a moment, and then Worf speaks. “I wonder if we are destined in some way to become the worst traits of our peoples.” he says quietly.

 

“Not me.” Kira says fiercely. “Not ever.”

 

“It’s unavoidable.” Jadzia says sadly. “It just happens.”

 

“What happens?” Kira asks.

 

“You’re raised with a certain culture, certain ideals your whole life. At some point you grow up, and you realize you’d absorbed it into yourself, whether you wanted to or not.”

 

“What difference does it make?” Odo grunts cynically.

 

“It matters.” Jadzia says quietly but firmly, though there are no easy answers as to where to go from there.

 

“I was thinking....” Bashir says into the silence. “I know it’s a weird time, but I was just wondering, what’s going to happen to us all tomorrow? I mean I consider all of you my friends now. I’m not wrong, am I?”

 

“No.” Worf answers seriously.

 

“So tomorrow, when we go back to our regular lives, what happens?”

 

“Are we still friends, you mean?” Kira asks. “If we’re friends now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you want the truth?”

 

“Yes, I want the truth.”

 

“I don’t think so.” Kira shakes her head sadly.

 

“Do you mean all of us?” Jadzia asks. “Or just Odo?”

 

“All of you.”

 

“It would be dishonourable to dismiss us all so easily.” Worf glares at her, baring his teeth.

 

“Oh, be honest, Worf.” Kira says with a roll of her eyes. “If Julian came up to you on the promenade, what would you do? I mean picture it -- you’re there with all the other Klingons, and here Julian comes bouncing along. I know exactly what you’d do. You’d acknowledge him and then when he left you’d cut him all up so the other Klingons wouldn’t think you really liked him!”

 

“I would not!” Worf defends.

 

“And what if I came up to you?” Jadzia asks Kira.

 

“Same exact thing.”

 

“You disgust me.” Odo says to Kira, shaking his head.

 

“Why? Because I’m telling the truth? That makes me disgusting?”

 

“No!” Odo says. “Because you know it’s wrong to do that to someone. And you’re too much of a coward to go up to your Bajoran compatriots and tell them that you’ll like who you want to like.”

 

“Okay, what about you, you hypocrite? Everybody knows you’ve got your reputation on this station, too. Aloof, condescending to everyone around you. What if you started having lunch in the replimat every day with Dax? Or hanging out with Julian in the holosuites? And what about Worf for that matter? What about me? What would it do to your precious reputation if we were walking along the promenade together like friends, in full view of everyone? You certainly wouldn’t be able to keep martyring yourself as the friendless, unapproachable Changeling. You’d probably try to pass it off as something to do with security even with your position revoked, just so no one would suspect you had actual friends.”

 

“Don’t you ever talk about my reputation on this station. You don’t know whether or not I have or ever had had friends here, you don’t know a thing about my former position as chief of security, and you certainly don’t know the first thing about me personally. I suggest you stick with the things you know -- the military, and your religion, and very little else!”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“As far as being concerned about what will happen if you and I were seen walking down the promenade together, you can forget it. It’ll never happen. Just go back to your Prophets and your precious orbs and bury your head in the sand.”

 

“I hate you.” Kira says, shaking her head, full of emotion.

 

“Oh? Good!”

 

There is silence again until Bashir speaks. “Then I assume Jadzia and I are better people than you guys are.” he says quietly. “Jadzia, would you do that to me?”

 

“I don’t have anyone to impress.” she counters.

 

“Well if you did?”

 

“No. I don’t think maintaining any sort of reputation would be worth it to me.” she admits with quiet conviction.

 

“I just want to tell each of you that I wouldn’t do that.” Julian says. “I wouldn’t and I will not. I don’t think it’s right.”

 

“The people in the infirmary wouldn’t mind anyway.” Kira counters. “You’re all basically required to be good to all your patients as part of the job description.”

 

“You’re so conceited, Kira.” Julian says with a shake of his head. “You’re so full of yourself. Why are you like that?”

 

“I’m not saying that to be conceited! I hate it! I hate the pressure I’m under. I hate having to go along with every single thing the Bajoran government, or Bajoran people, or our religious leaders say!”

 

“Well then why do you do it?” Julian presses.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t... you don’t understand... you don’t. The Federation just doesn’t have the same kind of culture Bajor does, or that the Klingon Empire does!” she gestures to Worf, to include him in this. “You know, you just don’t understand the pressure that they can put on you!”

 

Julian looks shocked. “I don’t understand what? You think that I don’t understand pressure, Kira? Well fuck you! Fuck you!” Julian takes a swipe at his eyes, feeling himself beginning to tear up.

 

“Do you know why I’m here today? Do you? I was caught tampering with the airlock controls for the station.” he admits.

 

Worf looks at him in alarm. “What were you planning to do with the airlocks?” he demands to know.

 

“I tried.” Julian babbles. “To get good reports. From Starfleet, from the leaders of the station. But there are always mistakes.” he shook his head. “I miss one question on my final exam, and instead of being first in my class, I’m second. Or I miss filing some important piece of paperwork because I’m in surgery for sixteen straight hours. Or God forbid I lose a patient.” he swipes away tears from his cheeks. “It’s never good enough.”

 

“What were you doing with the airlocks?” Worf asks with more edge to his voice.

 

“Just forget it...” Julian says with a shake of his head.

 

“It was you who brought it up.” Worf insists.

 

“I can’t be only mediocre.” Julian says. “I can’t have it, my parents could never have it, and Starfleet certainly can’t have it! And I’ve come to realize that even if I try harder, think faster, sleep less, do more, there’ll always be someone better, or some standard I fail to meet.”

 

“Oh, Julian.” Kira says with pity.

 

“So I considered my options, you know?”

 

“Julian, sending yourself out an airlock is not an option!”

 

“Well I didn’t do it, did I? No, I don’t think so!”

 

“Did you get close?” Jadzia asks.

 

“Not really.” Julian admits. “I’m a doctor, not an engineer. There are so many security checks and technology involved in actually opening one.... They’re not designed to just be opened with your bare hands. O’Brien, the Chief of Engineering got to me before I got very far at all. I guess I tripped some alarms even making the attempt.”

 

Worf lets out a stifled but amused snort.

 

“It’s not funny.” Julian says sullenly. One by one though, they all start to laugh, including, finally Julian himself. “All right.” he admits. “I suppose it is a bit funny. I’m a genius who can’t even open an airlock.”

 

“Do you want to know what I did to get in here?” Jadzia asks with a smile. “Nothing... I didn’t have anything better to do.”

 

Everyone laughs harder at the confession.

 

“You’re laughing at me...” Jadzia says with a bit of an embarrassed smile.

 

“Certainly not.” Worf says, stifling his own amusement.

 

Jadzia starts to laugh too. “Yeah you are!”

 

~~

 

After such heavy confessions, a lighter atmosphere is called for, and Julian goes into the small office with the detention centre’s comm. system before Worf can put on any more Klingon Opera. Before long, everyone is dancing to the melodic tunes of one Vic Fontaine.

 

~~~

 

The day is coming to a close. Odo reverts into a liquid state and oozes through the walls in order to get back to the closet where Dukat had left him.

 

Worf, Jadzia, Kira, and Julian are left sitting with one another for company.

 

“Julian?” Kira asks.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you actually going to write that stupid essay Dukat wants us to write?”

 

“Probably. Why?”

 

“Well it’s kind of a waste for all of us to write our essay, don’t you think?”

 

“Well that _is_ what Dukat told us to do.”

 

“True, but I think we’d all say more or less the same thing.”

 

“You just don’t want to write your essay.” Julian smiles.

 

“True, but you’re the smartest, right?”

 

Julian blushes slightly. “Well...”

 

“We trust you.”

 

Julian glances over at Jadzia and Worf who both nod in approval.

 

“Major Kira is correct.” Worf admits.

 

“All right. I’ll do it.” Julian concedes.

 

“Great.” Kira smiles. She looks over at Jadzia who looks back. “Come on.” she says, giving Jadzia’s Ferengi jacket a little tug.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Come on!” she encourages, and leads the way to the little office on the second floor.

 

~~~

 

Kira and Jadzia are in the office, and Kira has made Jadzia take off her hideous jacket, revealing a much more attractive blouse underneath. She has pulled Jadzia’s hair back more than it had been, and between the hair and the more revealing clothes her spots are displayed beautifully. Kira is giving her a slightly more dramatic, more Kira-esque look with her makeup.

 

“Don’t stick that in my eye!” Jadzia complains as Kira uses her eyeliner on her.

 

“I’m not sticking it... just close... just go like that...” she demonstrates, closing her eyes, and Jadzia mimics her. “Good.” Kira says. “You know you really look a lot more attractive without all that Ferengi crap.”

 

“Hey, I like Ferengi fashion.”

 

“This looks a lot better. Look up.” she directs.

 

Jadzia asks, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

 

Kira smiles and answers, “Because you’re letting me.”

 

~~~

 

Down on the first floor of the detention centre, Bashir is thinking about what he’s going to write, while Worf is stoically just thinking.

 

~~~

 

Back in Dukat’s office, Odo is back in his closet. The door opens to reveal Kira as she enters.

 

“Are you lost?” Odo asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

 

Kira raises a flirtatious brow, and Odo smiles. Kira smiles back, then leans in to gently press a kiss just beside Odo’s mouth.

 

“Why did you do that?” Odo asks, mystified.

 

“Because I knew you wouldn’t.”

 

“You know what you said before?” Odo asks. “About Kai Winn and Vedek Bareil using your position on the station to fight each other politically? Wouldn’t I be outstanding in that capacity?”

 

Kira grins. “Were you really disgusted about what I did with my lipstick?” she asks.

 

“Truth?”

 

“Truth.”

 

Odo nods affirmatively but says “No.” He smiles faintly.

 

~~~

 

In the detention centre, Bashir is busily preparing his essay. Worf looks up and sees the newly made over Jadzia, and is in awe. Jadzia walks toward him, but stops when she notices Bashir staring at her as well, his mouth wide open. She glares at him self consciously.

 

“You look good.” Julian whispers honestly, blinking in surprise at her new look.

 

Jadzia warms and her defences drop. She smiles gratefully. “Thank you.”

 

Jadzia walks on, and comes to Worf. “What happened?” he asks curiously, tilting his head as he takes in Jadzia’s new look.

 

“Why?” Jadzia asks defensively. “Kira did it. What’s wrong with it?”

 

“Nothing is wrong.” Worf says. “It is simply... different. I can more easily see your face, your spots, the body behind that stiff Ferengi jacket.”

 

“Is that good or bad?” Jadzia asks.

 

“Good.” Worf declares with a pleased growl, and Jadzia smiles.

 

In the background, we see Julian kiss his PADD as he’s completed the essay, and gives himself a congratulatory punch in the arm.

 

~~~

 

It is the end of the day, and everyone is walking down the hall from the detention centre, back toward the promenade or their quarters. They’re met by Garak, who is sweeping up. Bashir nods at him.

 

“Good evening, Doctor.” Garak acknowledges with a smile.

 

“Garak.” Bashir nods.

 

Odo says to Garak, “See you next Saturday.”

 

“Of course.” Garak smiles.

 

~~~

 

Bashir makes his way to Sisko’s office, who wants a complete report on how the detention centre is handled, from the perspective of a Starfleet officer.

 

In a remote hall, Worf and Jadzia kiss. Jadzia rips Worf’s family crest off his Klingon sash with a flirtatious smile, and walks off with it. Worf heads off to give his report to General Martok, who quirks a curious brow when he notices the lack of the crest.

 

In another corridor, Kira takes off her Bajoran earring and puts it into Odo’s hand. They share a kiss, and she moves off to sit in evening prayers at the temple. Odo holds the earring to his ear and warps his body to accommodate it.

 

In the detention centre, Dukat enters to find the place empty but for the single PADD left lying on one of the tables. He picks it up and begins to read.

 

_Gul Dukat,_

 

_We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice an entire work day to the detention centre for whatever it was that we did wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us. In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions._

 

_But what we found out is that each of us is a human, and a Klingon, a Trill, a Bajoran, and a Changeling. Does that answer your question?_

 

_Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club._


End file.
